


Sir

by ethos



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Dark!Sisko, Excessive Drinking, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Dynamics, Rare Pairings, Solid!Odo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethos/pseuds/ethos
Summary: Sisko invites Odo to dinner and takes advantage of him.





	Sir

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in-between s04 and s05, soon after Odo becomes a solid. In s04e26, they call Odo human, and I follow that canon in this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I quite like Sisko, but he is not a nice person in this work. Please read the tags.

They are sitting across from one another, drinking wine and talking. It is all very easy--much easier than Odo expected when Sisko first invited him to dinner--but he does not fully relax. They have both withdrawn in the past few weeks, for entirely different reasons but for reasons nonetheless, and Odo's made a point of avoiding the captain.

When they do see each other, Sisko’s eyes weigh heavily on him, as heavy as the island. That beautiful, terrible island. Odo can still feel the ground beneath his back, in many ways remaining there, naked and human, Sisko and the others above him.

If he thinks of it too long, his hands start to shake--a dreadfully human response, one he is unprepared for--and he starts to wonder if Sisko thinks of that day, too.

He suspects it is the pretense for dinner, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he eats slowly and tries not to look at the other man’s face.

“And the _ landscape_, Odo! No words give it justice. When most people think of Louisiana, they picture swamps and bayous and bugs. Nothing else! Of course, there are all those things, but there is also so much _ more _…”

Sisko is currently rambling about his childhood in New Orleans, an unexpected but appreciated subject. Odo anticipated the dinner to be over the recent problems with the Maquis or the Dominion’s current strategic developments, but the evening has been pleasantly unpolitical.

“It must have been a very rewarding place to grow up.” Odo sips his wine, a little useless in their current subject. Sisko is entertaining to watch, bright-eyed and motionful when speaking of old times, but Odo has no stories to recount himself. No home. No roots. He pushes his plate away. “The meal was very good. Thank you.”

Sisko watches him, fingers drumming against the table. “More wine, perhaps?”

Odo nods, and Sisko empties the rest of the bottle into Odo’s glass. Each time he clears his drink, Sisko offers more, and by this point Odo is a little drunk. He’s never seen Sisko drink so liberally, has never done so himself, but it is something new, something human, and he tries to lean into it.

“I’ve been meaning to invite you over for quite some time,” says Sisko, corking the empty bottle. He replicates another and pours himself a tall glass; his movements are less restrained than they were an hour ago, and wine spills over the rim. “But with the Dominion and Bajor and all this _ Emissary business _ I have to attend to, well…it’s hard to find the time.”

Sisko speaks of being the Emissary with a level of disdain Odo has never heard from him. Odo glances up, unsure of what to say, but Sisko continues.

“I figured now is as good a time as any, with the place to myself tonight.” He settles into his chair, smiling widely at Odo. “And now that you’re human, you can finally appreciate my cooking.”

This is a gentle lie, Odo suspects, but he nods. The real reason--the subject they’ve darted around since the evening began--sits freshly in his mind. That hard ground, cold and pain and fear overcoming him for the first time in a sharp, terribly human way, all the physical sensations that follow, Sisko’s eyes burning down on him.

A surge of emotion hits, and Odo grits his teeth. Sisko shifts restlessly across from him.

“You know, Odo…” Sisko trails off, catching himself on what he’s about to say, but then saying it anyway. “...sometimes I just can’t get a read on you.” He shakes his head, laughing at a joke Odo doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?” Odo straightens up, self-conscious.

“Right now, for instance. Does he like my cooking, or is he being polite? It’s anyone’s guess.” Sisko waves his hand dismissively, letting the question go. He’s still smiling, still sipping from his glass. “Now, granted, many people are hard to read, but after four years I can get by. With you, however? I’m useless.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me, sir. I’ll try to communicate more eff--”

“Odo, please.” Sisko sets his glass down, and he leans forward to touch Odo’s fingers where they rest next to his plate. The touch is brief, so brief Odo doesn’t have time to flinch away or consider whether it's an accident. Sisko does not react to the physical contact, so Odo doesn’t either. “You don’t have to call me sir right now.”

“Alright, si--” Odo stops himself, swallows, forgetting what they were discussing. Sisko’s eyes shine brightly at him, bright like many of the drunks leaving Quark’s--wild, even, in a way--but something else is there. Something Odo doesn’t recognize.

“At ease, constable!” Sisko barks out another laugh, running a hand across his eyes, wiping away the odd look.

Odo takes a swig of his drink, calming his nerves. The conversation has moved to a strange place, one he’s never been to, one where Sisko asks him not to call him _ sir _ . He licks his lips, tasting the acidity of the wine, and returns to the subject. “For what it's worth, the meal _ was _ good. I enjoyed it very much, but…” He pauses, afraid of offense. “Since becoming human, I've had difficulty with eating.”

Sisko quirks an eyebrow. “You do enjoy the taste of food, though, yes?”

“Of course. That part is fine. It’s…everything else.” Odo makes a face. “The way things slide down my throat and sit in my stomach. I find it unpleasurable.”

“Unpleasurable, really?” Sisko says distractedly, topping off his glass. “You never cease to surprise me, Odo.”

Odo grunts and downs his own wine, suddenly embarrassed he has admitted so much to Sisko, never usually so candid. Without asking, Sisko fills Odo’s glass back up, and Odo welcomes the gesture.

Sisko stands, glass in hand, and rubs the arch of his back. “Odo, why don’t we move to the couch?” he asks, but he is already sitting down and stretching out, deciding for them. “Starfleet-issued chairs aren’t friendly to my back.”

Odo accepts the reason. When he stands, he downs half his glass, and for the first time the room starts to spin. He guides himself to the couch and sits a comfortable distance away from Sisko, the intimacy of the situation present in his mind. While it's probably a common enough occurrence for the captain, Odo rarely sits on the couch with anyone.

“Tell me, Odo,” Sisko says, drawing Odo’s gaze to his, holding it there. “What else do you have difficulty with since becoming human?”

Odo swallows, unable to handle the prodding in Sisko’s eyes, the scrutiny. He looks away, but still feels it there. He wishes they had stayed at the table. “Nothing too dramatic.”

“Odo, look at me.” Sisko says, and it sounds like an order, not a request. Odo obeys. “What else?”

Something breaks inside Odo. “_Everything_,” he admits, and it is good to finally let the truth out, to say it to someone. He sighs, and he closes his eyes. Stars swirl in the dark, frightening him, and he blinks. “I never knew it would feel this way. It is all so…overwhelming.”

Sisko leans in, places a hand close to where Odo’s knee rests. “I can’t imagine.”

Odo feels the captain’s presence like a heat, like a fire gradually rising upon him. He doesn’t move away from the advancement, distracted by his own thoughts, the alcohol and conversation creating a queer synergy inside him. “It is hard to center myself in my work. Impossible to do so as I did when a changeling.” He is ranting now, tongue heavy in his mouth, slipping on words. “My body is so fragile and foreign. I’m distracted by so many feelings and urges, and it's become difficult to concentrate on my security duties.”

“Urges?” Sisko repeats, tasting the word. He watches Odo’s face. “What kind of urges?”

“I…” Odo’s throat is dry, and he sips his drink, no longer tasting it, trying to steady himself. There is a certain connotation to Sisko’s question, one Odo doesn’t know how to respond to, and his thoughts immediately leap to the fiction novels he reads, the romances. How provocative the words are. How they make him feel. His face flushes with embarrassment, and it is hard to concentrate on anything but the warmth of the wine and how hot he feels. Without thinking, honesty falls from him. “To be candid, sir, sexual ones.”

Sisko stiffens, and Odo’s heart jumps into his throat. For a few moments, he thinks he has said too much, has gone too far by mentioning sex. This will be the end of any future dinners. His career, perhaps.

But Sisko relaxes, setting his glass on the coffee table. He sighs deeply. “Remember what I said about calling me sir, Odo?”

“Yes, ” Odo says uncertainly, confused at the response. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Sisko touches Odo’s knee--a brief, reassuring gesture Odo still feels after it’s gone. Under normal circumstances, he might tense at the contact, might question why Sisko keeps touching him, but Odo can hardly focus on anything except the words between them. Sisko asks softly, “Are these urges directed at anyone in particular? Like Major Kira?”

Blood rushes to Odo’s face, burning and intense. Major Kira. It should be no surprise Sisko’s noticed, yet it still is, and he runs his hands over his face, a knot building in his throat. He nods, afraid of what his voice might sound like.

“Oh, Odo,” Sisko says, shifting inward, close enough their legs touch. “I’m sorry.”

Odo turns away, hurt and bitter and trembling at the thoughts now swirling in his head. “I don’t want your pity, captain,” he says.

“Pity?” There is a question in Sisko’s voice. He reaches a hand to tilt Odo’s chin to face him, and he traces Odo’s jaw. The gesture is startling, but somehow Sisko makes it feel like the most natural progression in the world. “I don’t _ pity _ you, Odo. I admire you.”

“Admire me?” The pain and bitterness fade, leaving an incredulous curiosity. “What could you possibly admire about _me_?”

Sisko smiles, eyes briefly glancing Odo up and down, looking at him in a way Odo has never seen before, as if he is someone else. “You are such a unique person,” he says, and the words sound carved in stone, unquestionable, like he really believes it. He slips an arm on the back of the couch, around Odo, casual but deliberate. “You are so…true to yourself, so honest.”

Odo searches the captain’s face, trying to calculate the odds Sisko is being sincere, but his vision is starting to swim. He doesn’t know what to say.

Something thick and heavy stretches in the silence between them, something Odo is too inexperienced to name. Sisko’s eyes are studying him, but they're also looking at something far away, deep and private in his mind, something Odo can’t see.

Disconcerted, Odo asks, “Captain?”

Sisko’s smile falters. “You know, Odo,” he says, bringing his face so close it’s impossible for Odo not to stare at him, his own face wide-eyed and unsettled. “I could…” Sisko swallows, words carefully placed. “..._ help _ you with your urges.”

"What do you mean?" Odo understands, but he plays ignorant, terrified he may be wrong.

“You know what I mean.” Sisko’s hand is on the back of Odo’s neck, playing with the hair there, and his body is boxing him in, trapping him.

The reality of the situation falls on Odo like a ripple of waves, confusion and anxiety and fear washing over him. He has never considered Sisko in this way before, but he is suddenly considering it now, all at once. His thoughts reel, and he tries to find what led them to this.

“You’ve had too much to drink.” The accusation comes out of Odo’s throat in a whisper, like a secret.

Sisko’s hand stops, rests just below Odo’s ear. "You're right," he agrees, but he looks at Odo like he's said something wrong.

The detective in Odo, always present in some capacity, shifts to the front of his mind. “Did you invite me here for this, captain?” he asks, and he notices for the first time his words are starting to slur, like he might be slipping away, right on time.

“What?” Sisko stills at the accusation, cocks his head to the side. “Odo, surely you don’t think I would…” He doesn’t finish, starts anew. “I mean, yes, it may have been a brief thought, but--” He waves his hand dismissively. “--we all have thoughts, don't we?"

Odo wants to ask when the thoughts first appeared--whether it coincides to when he was on the island, whether something changed between them in that moment--but he doesn’t ask. He can’t ask. “And the wine?”

“I thought it might help set the mood for _ conversation _,” Sisko insists, and he laughs. “This is starting to sound like an interrogation, constable.”

And there is that title, the one he hates to hear, especially hates when it comes from Sisko’s mouth. Even in this moment, he remains constable, and Sisko remains captain.

Odo leans back, closes his eyes, tries to collect his thoughts. With his eyes shut, his other senses move forward, reminding him of just how close they are. Sisko’s leg against his, Sisko’s hand on his neck, Sisko's torso so close--all so warm, and comfortable, and overwhelming. “Why would you offer such a thing to me?” he asks, voice loud against the dull hum of the station.

And Sisko is running his fingers through Odo’s hair again, petting him. “Oh, Odo.” This time when he says it, there is no pity, only a breathiness that knots Odo’s stomach. His head spins, and he digs his fingers into the cushions.

Odo isn’t sure when it happens, but Sisko’s hand moves to rest on his thigh, hot and heavy. He glances at the touch and then at Sisko’s face, sees something advancing there, something he doesn't understand. Not yet. Not until Sisko leans in and kisses him.

Odo’s mind blanks. He doesn’t push Sisko away.

Sisko's mouth tastes of wine, the same wine coating his own. Instinctively, Odo tries to copy Sisko’s movements, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, for some reason wanting to do it right. It’s only when Sisko’s hand moves to cup the inner part of his thigh, deliberate and wanting just below his groin, that Odo remembers what this is. Who he is. He stiffens, and Sisko pulls away.

“Odo?” Sisko says, startled. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Odo agrees, but his thoughts are muddled, his brain pulsing and thick in his head. He misses the pressure of Sisko’s hands on him, the comfort they brought.

The thought of giving Sisko what he wants does not seem like such a terrible thing anymore, does not seem like something Sisko should never have asked for in the first place. Instead, it feels like a powerful thing.

Sisko, of all people--the captain, the _ Emissary _\--wants him.

Without fully understanding what he’s agreeing to, Odo says, “You can do it again.”

Sisko's eyes darken, but he does not move at first, only studies Odo as if he's looking for a trap. Odo waits, unable to repeat himself, to give permission a second time. He hardly believes he said it to begin with, half-convinced it was a dream, conjured up by his imagination.

Finally, Sisko runs his hand through Odo’s hair, pulling their faces together, and they kiss again. It is soft at first, gentle, and then there is more. Sisko’s arm reaches around and draws their chests together, causing Odo to almost fall on top of him.

It is all so much--too much for Odo--but he tries to keep up. He touches Sisko wherever he can--on his cheek, his neck, his back--but his movements are clumsy. He has never kissed someone this way before, so passionately and with tongue; combined with the wine, it overwhelms him, so much so that when he closes his eyes, he swirls down into the darkness. Down into a deep, moving abyss.

He breaks away, gasping, and has trouble fixing his eyes on Sisko.

“Do you want more?” Sisko’s hands still rest on Odo, holding him there, primed and ready to go.

“Yes.” Odo says it because it’s what Sisko wants to hear, and because he is drunk.

Sisko groans, a guttural sound deep from his throat, one Odo hardly recognizes coming from him. 

Then they are kissing again, lips bruised and wet and burning this time. Sisko intertwines his fingers with Odo’s, and then he pulls Odo’s hand into his lap, pressing it down into his erection.

Feeling Sisko’s physical desire so evidently for the first time, Odo jumps.

“Are you alright?” Sisko asks, pulling back.

“Yes,” Odo lies. He is out of his depth and aware of it, knows he is inexperienced and uneducated on what to do with another person’s erection, anxious because of it. Sisko shifts hazily in his vision, their entangled hands and the hardness beneath the only certainty. “This is…This is a lot.”

“Do you want to continue?”

Odo wonders what would happen if he said no, for the first time since knowing the captain doubting his integrity. He swallows down the thought, decides he doesn't want to find out. “Yes.”

That word is all Sisko needs, and he comes back onto Odo eagerly. He kisses Odo’s neck, hands traveling under his shirt, touching him everywhere and anywhere he wants. Odo yields beneath the exploration, giving himself into it, and chokes on air when Sisko’s fingers brush against his nipples.

“Captain,” he moans, wanting to ask for something, not knowing what.

“Call me Ben,” Sisko says wetly into his ear. One hand travels down Odo’s chest, down his abdomen, and down lower still. He rubs firmly against Odo’s own erection--an erection Odo hadn’t realized he had, hadn’t felt--and Odo sees stars again.

“Ben.” The name is foreign in his mouth, and it tastes wrong, but he repeats it anyway. “Ben, please…”

Sisko pulls away, grinning at Odo's words. He fumbles with Odo’s zipper, and then his hand is down Odo’s trousers, touching his cock directly. Odo gasps, his breath catching, toes curling. He thrusts toward the contact, unaware he is doing it, looking for relief.

Sisko watches, delighted, before gently pushing him back. Odo sinks into the cushions, barely noticing the changing positions, doing something close to whimpering. Sisko stops his ministrations, and Odo is dimly aware of the captain tugging off his trousers. Sisko spits into his hand and returns it to Odo’s cock, slick this time, and Odo gasps again.

“Spread your legs, Odo.”

Odo obeys, fingers scratching desperately at the cushions, trying to hold himself steady. He feels nothing except Sisko’s hand wrapped around his cock, thinks of nothing else, wants nothing else.

Sisko settles between Odo’s legs. He eases down his own trousers, and Odo watches lazily as Sisko begins to stroke his own cock, his eyes fluttering closed, a smile spreading across his face.

The sight is beautiful, and taboo, and more erotic than Odo could ever acknowledge. Sisko opens his eyes, locks them onto Odo, and it makes Odo feel like a voyeur, caught staring when he shouldn't have.

But Sisko looks beyond himself, uncaring of anything Odo does. His free hand tangles into Odo’s hair, pulling him close, and he thrusts against Odo, hand slickly working at them both.

Odo's back arches into the friction, and in his drunkenness he begins to mumble nonsense. He forgets they are on the station, forgets they are supposed to be having dinner and wine, not doing this, forgets the things he says.

He doesn’t remember who he is, doesn’t remember how wrong this is, doesn’t remember anything from before the moment Sisko wrapped his hand around his cock.

Sisko revels in the noises he pulls from Odo, rewarding him by making everything tighter, _ harder _. He presses his mouth hotly on Odo’s neck, speaking drunkenly against his skin, “Your voice, Odo, god…speak for me…”

Odo obeys, because in that moment he would do absolutely anything Sisko asked of him, and he thinks he might be begging, can hear the desperation in his own voice, but he can’t make out the words. Whatever he says, Sisko likes it, grinding and touching with more pressure.

It is enough, and Odo comes all over his stomach, the corners of his vision fading to black as he begins to fall down, and down, and further still. Sisko comes soon after, his body slumping over Odo, enveloping him.

When Odo comes back up, the first thing he feels is the ejaculate chilling on his stomach, slick between them, and Sisko’s hand resting in it. The endorphins make everything seem unreal, like the whole room has frozen in time. Odo blinks up at the ceiling, skin sticky with sweat, and the wine in his stomach starts to turn.

“Thank you, Odo…thank you…” Sisko is murmuring against Odo’s neck, voice far away. He leans back to stare down at Odo, to drink him in.

Half-naked and exposed, all laid bare for the captain to examine, Odo feels like he did on the island, is reminded of it in his thoughts. That moment had felt unreal too, like time had frozen to a single moment, keeping him there.

Without warning, he pushes Sisko away and rolls over, retching onto the floor.

Sisko puts his hand on Odo's back, light and concerned. “Odo, are you alright?”

The taste of the wine makes Odo sick again, and he heaves, unable to answer. He waits until he is sure to be done, and then wipes a hand over his mouth. “Yes.”

“Come with me.” Sisko pulls him up, and together they stand from the couch. They find their way into the bedroom, and Sisko keeps his hands on Odo, steadying him as he stumbles. Odo holds onto him, only letting go when Sisko lays him onto the bed.

“I’m sorry I…” Odo swallows, throat aching, thinking of the mess he made. “Tomorrow I’ll --”

Sisko shushes him, tucks the blanket around his body. “I’ll take care of it. Relax, Odo.”

Odo relents, and he closes his eyes, buries his face into the cool pillow beneath him.

Sisko leaves and returns with a cloth and a glass. He wipes away the ejaculate and sweat now drying on Odo's stomach, quiet and focused.

The bed dips, and it startles Odo to full alert, and then Sisko’s arm is helping him up, a glass pressed against his lips. “Drink,” Sisko says.

Odo does, glad to find it’s water. He falls back, and Sisko crawls into the space next to him. He pulls Odo close, fingers caressing his skin, a little awkwardly at first, but in what feels like almost a loving manner.

Odo thinks it might be an apology, but he doesn’t want to consider what that means, doesn't want to think about what Sisko might be apologizing for. Instead, he accepts the touch as it comes. Things will be different tomorrow; in his drunken state he can’t comprehend how different, can’t muster up the resolve to care. He briefly considers whether it is possible to take everything back, to rebuild the boundary between them, and decides the answer is no.

Odo lets the thoughts go, and he presses into the warmth behind him, into the captain. He doesn't think about how drunk he is, or how he knows what Sisko's lips feel like.

He falls asleep, enveloped in Sisko's presence, in his hands, not thinking about it.


End file.
